Shortcutting Redemption
by Girl-chama
Summary: When the Avengers are unable to subdue a hulked-out Bruce Banner, they call in a new brand of consultant to get the job done (rated for mild language).
1. Chapter 1

AN: This idea has been following me around for a little while, so I wanted to go ahead and put it to rest. The timeline intersects after Avengers but before Iron Man 3 and about a decade after the events of chapter 605ish in the Naruto manga. For the most part, things should be self-explanatory. This should be a three-parter and no more. Enjoy :)

* * *

She quickly informed him that she could go in from ground level. It would buy some time as a distraction, if nothing else. Coulson did not need to look at her to see her grim perseverance. She had had the most encounters with the other guy in this state. Pre-Midtown interactions, anyway. To willingly put herself back into harm's way only reaffirmed her dedication. Still, it pleased him to say, "That won't be necessary."

On any other day the Hulk might have been more manageable. Something in him had changed since New York, and even Banner had seemed calmer. Rogers suggested it might be working in a group he trusted not to push him past his comfort zone, to do whatever it took to stop the Other Guy, without mingling the character of the two. Natasha was more certain it had something to do with Stark physically and verbally prodding Banner until he had a modicum of resistance to every day annoyances. Coulson thought the ideas might overlap more.

But Tony was not here, having retreated into his shell some weeks ago after shawarma and sending Loki home. And each of the team had become more isolated, Banner included, almost as if the Avengers unit was hibernating until needed again. None of them besides Thor had ever taken on the Hulk one-on-one. Even Tony, had he not been hiding in Malibu, would have been hard pressed to handle Banner's bad side. Given that Hawkeye was still en route and that they two down to two members of their full unit, they had been hard pressed to do anything but contain the situation.

So SHIELD had called for backup. There was a precedent in seeking help outside of the organization. Exceptional cases called for exceptional people.

Natasha regarded him with a critical curiosity at the relayed command, not yet privy to the contract. Given that a nine-foot tall green giant was currently destroying part of the city, the glare was not without merit. He shrugged his free arm, releasing his radio from its secured position and tucked the device back into his pocket. "We have a contractor on the way. Hill has ordered that we withdraw from this position for further cover."

The operative looked as if she was ready to disagree with the order, or at least have it clarified, which would not have annoyed Coulson in the least. Leaving would jeopardize what little buffer zone was left between their raging colleague and the rest of downtown. Before she could open her mouth, though, a petite young woman came sprinting around the corner.

Her movements were fluid and coordinated, and her eyes showed no discomfort at the sounds of destruction just beyond them. Arms thrown behind her, she moved with a speed that was impressive, belying the unprofessional look of her pale, pink hair.

Both SHIELD agents turned to regard the young woman as she slowed to a stop before them, bowing respectively. She did not even appear to be out of breath. As she rose, she reached toward her hip, and Coulson wondered briefly if they had made a mistake. When her hand came forward again, she was not holding an ineffective handgun, but a tightly bound scroll that looked like it had come from a souvenir store in Little China.

"I'm ready. The target is only a few hundred meters away, yes?" she asked with a thick accent. Her eyes were already moving beyond them, scanning rapidly for the Big Guy.

"Coulson," Natasha preempted. Her tone was thick with what she felt was warranted disbelief. The young woman barely had any muscle on her at all, evident in the sleeveless red top she wore. Was she trying to make herself a target in that color? She would not last two minutes in a street fight, much less a fight against Bruce Banner's alter-ego. There was not even any tech on her person, only a shirt and a flimsy skirt over a pair of longer shorts, nothing to prevent her from being completely crushed the moment she was within arm's reach.

Her former handler said nothing, but turned his carefully passive expression to the newcomer. "You're the contractor?" he asked carefully. She turned two candy-bright green eyes on him and smirked tolerantly.

"My village holds this contract, yes. If you're concerned about my abilities, we can discuss it afterward. For now, we're wasting time." Natasha watched her black-gloved thumb slip under the sealed scroll breaking its binding effectively. "I'll be back in a few moments," the young woman said, inclining her head respectfully.

They were hardly in a position to stop her as she leaped onto the SUV they had been standing behind and immediately flipped off, sprinting as she landed. She manipulated the scroll as she ran, not breaking her speed. By the time she turned the corner, a block away, two arms' length of the paper had been unbound. "Did we just allow a child to run to her death?" Natasha asked mildly.

Coulson did not answer. He was already moving again. Reaching into the vehicle, he opened a thick black briefcase, exposing a built-in laptop and battery. Following his train of thought, she opened up her own communication device and called, "This is Agent Romanov. Get us into CCTV, stat."

The computer screen flared to life, the execution file opened, and for a moment all was snowy static until the city cameras became their eyes. Banner was there, or rather, the Other Guy was there. His destruction had slowed almost to the point that it seemed he was waiting for something. Whether he was tolerating the transformation or perhaps he could hear the girl approaching, his wait would soon be over.

* * *

It had been a long time since Sakura had been so far away from Konoha. Perhaps this _was_ the first time she had been quite so far away. Wave Country had been over a decade ago, and she had made so many trips to Suna in the interim that the three-day trip seemed routine. This was something else entirely. She had never been on a ship for days and days with nothing but the ocean to surround her and the stars to blanket her. Granted, the ship had been a nice one, with interesting people and delicious food, but it had delivered her to a city that was a country unto itself.

Her task was simple. The village needed money. Years after the last Great War had been averted, she and her friends lived in a time of relative peace. Beyond the guard details for local royalty, there had been very few reasons to hire ninja, especially ninja of her caliber. So, on the order of the Rokudaime, they had branched out, sought countries beyond their own with the wealth that could match their needs.

Sakura was the latest link along a length of chain supporting her village. Whenever word of a new, hopefully expensive, mission appeared, she was already a good distance closer to the potential client. She had been in this gigantic city for a few weeks when this mission had finally arrived.

The green man had been on the news before. She had seen his propensity for destruction and had picked through enough of the local language to realize that he was still something of a hero, despite his egregious displays. She had contacted the Hokage, only half sorry to be interrupting his ramen binge, and expressed an interest in interfering. She might have even taken the task on without money had there ever been a more dire need. Each time before, the beast man's caretakers had eventually figured out how to have him rescinded, but not before causing a lot of damage along the way. Feelers had been put out, and a tentative agreement had been reached. If they ever needed Konoha's help, they would call. Sakura was not sure what Naruto and the Council had done to convince them, but contracts had been drawn up, and their employer _had_ contacted her. It had not taken much advance warning, especially since she had seen his latest rampage on the news and come running.

All of the information for the contract had been filtered through Konoha. While she felt nothing but confident in her ability to accomplish her task, she still did not know the faces of her employers. The man with the shoulder sling and the severe woman were the first contacts she had interacted with. Just like many of the other clients she had encountered, they seemed to want to discount her at first sight.

"So it was best to just greet them and move onto the target," she thought, having had similar experiences before. Invariably, the clients were satisfied with her work and gracious at the end of the day. For now, though, there was no getting around being someone with a small frame and pink hair.

The target was not hard to find, the _hokano aitsu_. He heard her as soon as she turned the corner, his eyes narrowing even with the stark distance between them. She paused for a moment, the open and rolled ends of the scroll held tightly in her fingers. He huffed like a bull, muscle rippling beneath his green skin. Green was new.

Beyond the verdant shade of his hide, he looked similar to the curse-sealed nin she had seen so many years ago. Hyperfunctioning proportional myomegaly, indicating an increased metabolism and increased capability for force. Especially in his upper torso, while his legs were comparatively thin. They were still thicker than her entire torso, but long, lengthy fibers would imply speed. So he was fast and strong. Still, he had no horns growing from his head or wings sprouting from his back. There were only four appendages, not eight.

"Hmm," she thought, her curiosity piqued. If he had been a nin of any kind, she might have worried, but she had seen the news reports and had further intel from her employer. There was no increased intelligence in addition to his increased physicality. His own colleagues considered him not much more than an animal in this state. A powerful, fast animal whose defensive and offensive abilities outstripped their own, but an animal nonetheless. She tried not to feel too calm about the situation. Lions and bears were still dangerous in their way.

Yet supposedly beneath his curse was a brilliant, and gentle scientist. For that reason, the target was not to be terminated, only incapacitated. Killing would have been easier on many levels, but Konoha had insisted they could get the job done. Their reputation was riding on her.

She frowned as she darted forward, dark boots pounding on the pavement. A gentle man he might have been, but she could not sympathize with such self-inflicted conditions. Power for power's sake was an ethic she had rejected as a child, already well aware of the consequences of such pursuits. Perhaps this man would one day know just how horrible his own pursuit had been. Until then, her village could benefit from the revenue brought on by his carelessness.

He turned to face her fully, baring his teeth as she approached, and he did not run. As she closed the distance between them, she took the barrel of the scroll into her mouth, her hands sealing quickly. Chakra surged through her fingertips and then into the paper as she rapidly took hold of the scroll once more. She zigzagged trying to confuse the lessened intelligence behind his watchful eyes, but his gaze held her like she might be prey.

She leaped, covering several meters to land at his side, but he was already facing her again. Sakura continued running, monitoring his ability to keep up with her speed. It made sense that he would be so fast if all he had to do was turn a few degrees at a central point while she was traveling the circumference around him. Quickly, she threw the scroll high into the air, her eyes still on him. He glanced to it for a moment, perceived no threat, and then turned his eyes back to his would-be assailant.

Three more of her had appeared in the small amount of time it had taken for his eyes to dart back and forth. All of them were running in a tight line around him, each catching an identical scroll from the air. Then without a word each girl broke off at a cardinal point around him, surrounding him in a small square. Sakura and her bunshin mimicked their stances. Staggering their approaches, each charged him. It would be over as soon as she could apply the seal that would effectively contain him until his rage subsided or further action was necessary. Just another moment.

She was almost upon him, charging from the back when he whirled on her like a dervish. His hand snapped closed around her ribs. The kunoichi was so startled that it only took a squeeze for the other bunshin to dissipate into nothing. He had beaten her shell game, with no chakra and without seeing the copies made. Had he sensed her?

The resulting squeeze felt like an angry elephant had decided to sit on her and then grind her into the ground. She cried out despite herself as he pulled her in, face-to-face, teeth bared. For a horrible moment she had the clearest understanding that he was going to bite her head off like in some deplorable fairy tale about trolls and goblins.

The roar that bellowed into her face did nothing to assuage that concern, but by that time she had gathered her wits again. She still had a free hand that was not holding the scroll. It only took a split second to clock her captor with a medium-strength punch. It was enough force to ensure that she was serious without completely devastating his body. He reeled backward, dropping her as he did, and she took a full breath as she dropped to the ground, instinctively checking her ribs. The length of them felt bruised for sure, and strained, but not fractured.

Satisfied, she stood, taking hold of the prepped scroll once more. She did not hesitate as the beast man rolled onto his feet again, his face full of hateful anger once more, but completely unmarred. He charged to meet her. Fingers pulled the binding characters from the scroll with another surge of chakra and then promptly dropped the useless paper. Another hand plucked a smoke bomb from her pouch and tossed it at his feet. It exploded, smoldering upward and covering the hulking body. He jumped upward to be clear of the debris, but Sakura was already there.

Her black fist, covered in a writhing mass of characters pressed lightly against his forehead as she called, "Sealing technique!" She pressed off of his descending body and landed a moment later, crouched. As she glanced over her shoulder, she saw the body of a naked man careening to the street. Her seal had worked, but even the little effort had been more than she had anticipated. The green man had not responded to her strike as he should have, and the realization made her frown. Her client had not exaggerated his endurance.

Gathering her breath, and healing the little bit of damage to her body, she stood carefully and then approached the subject. Sakura kneeled next to him, safe in the knowledge that the sealing had obviously worked. He was older than she, perhaps Kakashi's age, with pepper-speckled dark hair and a dusting of chin scruff. He looked… tired. She reached a single finger forward to his forehead and channeled a minute amount of chakra. The compact black seal writhed under her finger as she traced it alongside his face, down his neck to the back of his shoulder. When she removed her touch the characters settled down into a nice, inky tableau.

His vitals felt strong, but he was clearly exhausted. She sighed, feeling pity for the man. How much harder was it for non-ninja to subject themselves to forces they could not control? There was no precedent for this kind of action amongst civilians, not that she knew of, anyway. Her pity turned to annoyance all over again. She stood as the first of the reinforcements arrived in a large, black vehicle.

The man with the injured shoulder climbed out of the back seat- not driving, so in authority, it seemed. The woman from before stood beside him, just slightly behind. Just next to her was another tall, blond man, a very attractive tall, blond man, who happened to be staring at the sleeping man with concern.

"Impressive work," the first man spoke soberly, reaching out a hand to her. "Very expedient." Sakura took it, respecting their custom, and allowed her hand to be shaken. She could not help but smile at his satisfaction, receiving a small, perfunctory smile in return. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson."

"Haruno Sakura," she said, while something about his calm, uninterested manner made her think that he already knew her name. Perhaps more. How much had Konoha told him about her?

"Is he all right?" the woman from before asked, facing her again. Sakura turned, glad to be able to speak about the contract and nodded. She had the strong impression that there always something serious in the woman's manner.

"He's just tired. Transformations like these take much out of the body."

That statement did grab Coulson's interest, and he asked, "You know about such transformations?"

She felt no reason to hide the truth, and so she nodded. "We've seen something similar to this before where I'm from." The woman and Coulson exchanged silent glances, exchanging a wealth of communication in flat eyes. Sakura wondered how long they had worked together, before the red head smiled and stuck out her hand as well.

"Natasha Romanov."

"A pleasure."

"Steve Rogers," the third of their party added from Sakura's side. She glanced back to see another hand extended to her. Occupying most of Rogers' right shoulder was the naked man, who had been wrapped in something like a robe. Sakura shook his hand as well, smiling more brightly at the warmth of his own gaze.

"Miss Haruno, we'd like to speak with you a bit longer, if you wouldn't mind. It's very interesting to us these techniques. Plus we'll need you to give us the actual details of the procedure you accomplished."

She regarded Coulson for another moment, then nodded. If she was going to get paid, she needed to cooperate as much as possible. Konoha's sealing style, or in this Kakashi's sealing style, was proprietary information, of course, and how to recreate such important things, she would not divulge. But… She took a glance at the sleeping man, who only minutes before had been trying to crush the life out of her, and thought that it might be nice to see him awake and as gentle as they claimed.

* * *

TBC.

If you enjoyed, have questions or would like to motivate me to update faster, please leave a review :) Thanks very much in advance.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wow! I was really taken aback by how much feedback this story got right away. Crossovers! Amirite? So, second chapter. Next one should be the last. For all of those of you being pounded by Sandy, I hope this is something to make your day a little bit brighter. As for me, I'm off to microbiology class (blaaarrrggh.)

* * *

The grogginess Bruce felt on waking was something he had not experienced in so long he wondered if he was still dreaming. His mind felt clouded, unhindered by the anxiety that kept woke him four, seven, eight times a night. His muscles, too, felt heavy and warm, as if he had been sleeping too long. As he glanced around the recovery room, he realized it was not his MO to dream of SHIELD offices. Huh. He must have been awake after all. He yawned so large that his jaw cracked and then sank into the bed, belatedly remembering why he was not in his own suite several floors above.

The memories returned gradually, linearly. He had been on the street. A few hundred feet away there had been a small protest, just on the opposite end of the block. The noise and crowd had agitated him, but that should not have been enough to unleash the Other Guy. Was his control slipping? Was he slipping? How many people had been hurt?

"Heavy thoughts?" an accented voice asked from his side. He glanced over, surprised, and felt a fiery sting in his shoulder as his heart rate jumped. He was reflexively anticipating the monumental control required not to burst out of his skin when he finally saw her smiling at him, a woman he'd never seen before in his life… Or had he? It was hard to forget pink hair and eyes like Granny Smith apples.

Her expression was easy and only slightly concerned, not in the panic of certain death, but in an outgoing concern for him. It was… strange. Strange and welcome.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" he asked, her earlier question forgotten. The control seemed… unnecessary, and that did not seem right at all. Right now he could not even feel the Other Guy, much less hear his rage at the surprising presence.

"Not at all," she answered, calling his attention back as she leaned forward and extended her hand. "My name is Haruno Sakura." Bruce shook it gently, noting how firmly she clasped his fingers without hesitation.

"Bruce Banner," he replied and she nodded again. Of course, she probably already knew his name. And his condition, if she was sitting in the same room.

"Technically, we've already met," she announced. It answered his earlier question but produced several others in its wake. When had they met? Was she a SHIELD agent? As she smiled softly at him, he could not help the feeling of dread that came over him. Had she met the Other Guy? What did she mean by "met"? Yet her gaze was steady, unwary. There was no recrimination in her eyes, no hostility or derision.

"You- ah… what happened?" he asked, too practical to be embarrassed, and too confused to keep from asking.

"You had an… accident?" she asked, reaching for the proper word. "An incident?" She shook her head when it was clear he understood her meaning. "SHIELD contacted my superiors for assistance in dealing with the problem. I took care of it."

Bruce blinked at her.

She smiled again, this time dimpling at his consternation.

"You _took_ _care_ of it?" he asked in disbelief, noting her Seventeen Magazine hand-in-chin pose as she sat next to him. She looked like she could barely drive. How was she supposed to- Bruce sighed, remembering only a few hours north of the city the compound hidden behind a placard for gifted students… "Are you one of Xavier's kids?" His face scrunched at the idea of sending a child into battle against someone like the Other Guy.

Sakura frowned and shook her head, "I'm not sure who that is, so I'll have to say 'no.' Nor am I a child, thank you." She sighed once she realized he had yet to be mollified. "I come from the Hidden Village of Konoha. Since SHIELD did not want you terminated, I was contacted as I have a special skill set complementary to your own."

He was listening to her words, absorbing the details clinically, and yet it still felt as though he was dreaming. She turned to the pitcher at his bedside table and poured a serving of water into a plastic yellow cup before passing it to him. Bruce took it and drank a slow sip, still watching her. She bore the scrutiny well, reminding him of Agent Romanov. There was unflinching wisdom in her eyes. He scratched his brow, wondering if the pink hair was a false nose.

"You took care of the Other Guy?"

"Sou," she answered with a springy nod, then shook her head. "I mean, 'yes.'"

"And you have a skill set complementary to mi- to the Hulk's?" At the question, she sighed patiently and nodded her head once more. It was too surreal. Sakura claimed to be "not a child" but she did not look like an adult either. Not to mention her slight frame and almost complete lack of musculature. If she was not a mutant, how on earth could she have engaged his bad side and come out alive, much less unscathed? "How?"

Her smile returned, sincere but also secretive, "Have you shared with others your method for affecting your transformation?"

Bruce frowned sharply at the unpleasant memory. The Gamma bomb, experimental reach in the name of science. His face closed off as she watched him, but her expression had softened into something neutral. He nodded in understanding, his own question answered, but curiosity unsated.

"To be fair," she deflected, and he got the distinct impression she was trying to spare his feelings, and even perhaps apologizing for the proprietary stance, "you did a good number on my ribs. But I understand that there is a…" Her fingers danced, trying to grab the word she wanted. "_Nibunho_… Nanka…" She shook her head and started over. "You and the other one are different, ne? So, as your people say, 'no hard feelings.'"

He took a long swig from the water cup and declined a refill, allowing his eyes to shift from her to the room and back again. It was too easy to think he was still dreaming, and why a dream of a cute, Asian girl beating him to a pulp was a question for Jung or Freud. A month ago, two months ago, just a few years ago, he would not have thought anything of the sort were possible.

He had thought things were different, that maybe he was starting to accept more of the Other Guy as an inescapable part of himself. He had definitely helped in the fight against the Chitauri, and subduing Loki, he was not too modest to say. But then Thor had gone home, Tony had returned to California, and even Hawkeye and Black Widow's appearances had been few and far between. Only Rogers had remained in New York, and he still had demons of his own to battle.

It had been all too easy to forget the lessons he had learned in the heat of battle, to hide behind microscopes and molecular physics and remember the people he wanted to protect and the real battle he had to fight. Perhaps his control had slipped, if he could not even remember the catalyst for his change.

And now Haruno Sakura was telling him… Was the Bad Guy under control? Had a teenager put him back into a place where he could relax? It had been a while since he had battled with this much cognitive dissonance, just ready to accept that his lot and life would be one of struggle and isolation. But she had surprised him and he had not changed. He had not heard the Other Guy demanding release. For the moment, he could suspend disbelief. Having done so, he sighed and lowered himself back into the inclined bed.

"Where are Agent Coulson and the others?" he asked, turning to face the young woman who had bested him. Bested his ugly side. Had anyone gotten a picture of her doing it? Or video? With audio? And slow motion?

"Coulson and Fully thought it would be good if I could explain my technique to you so that you might, uh, derive more benefit from it." She took the cup from his hand and slipped a mirror into it instead. It was the first time he realized that he had not been restrained to the bed. Not that restraint would have done any good, but the expression of freedom was nice. It calmed him further.

"Put it here," she said gently, with all of the bedside manner of an experienced nurse, and directed him to hold the mirror just to the left of his face. Then she stood behind the bed, slipping another, larger mirror between the mattress and his bare shoulder. Following her instructions, he maneuvered the mirror into a coordinated position.

He remembered the sting he had felt upon waking, and could see now what looked like a black, double helical tattoo. Lines of interweaving script rolled around until their ends connected around an even darker concentration of characters and symbols. He could read none of them. He frowned, adjusting the mirror this way and that to get a better look at the work she had done. Was this some kind of voodoo? Even so, he could not stop staring at the intricacy and detail, and Sakura made no attempt to stilt his studying.

"This is your work?" he asked, more for confirmation than revelation. She agreed with a soft affirmative. "What's its do? _How_ does it work?" he asked, already forgetting that she had insinuated it was best not to know.

She laughed as she finally removed the mirror and resumed her seat. "They _did_ say you were a scientist." Bruce gave an obligatory smile, an expression that dimmed the girl's more cheerful visage, and she laid the mirror against his blanketed thigh.

Clearing her throat, she said, "What I put on your shoulder is a modified chakra seal. It suppresses bodily energy. That is the 'how'. Basically, this will stop you from transforming into the Other One as long as the seal persists." He stared at her again, his eyes hardening as he took in the words. Was that possible? He remembered the concept of chakras from his time in India, but he did not put much stock in them.

His fingers reached back to where he knew the new marks rested, but all he felt was smooth, warm skin. It did not even feel tender to the touch. Weren't tattoos supposed to hurt more? Scab over? Not that he would know given that he had never taken the time to get one Before, and now he could not chance voluntary pain for the risk of killing an unsuspecting tattoo artist. How had she managed… _this_?

"How is that possible?" he asked, trying to think of more relevant questions, and proud of the strength in his voice. Chakras. Energy. _Normality_. This… This was an avenue he had thought closed to him forever. Before she could answer, he asked, "You're serious?"

She grinned and nodded. "Yes, it is possible. The seal is as effective as the willpower of the one who wears it. Yours, as I am led to believe, is extraordinary."

"But how does it work?" he asked, curiosity building within him. He smiled, and for the first time, his smile began to reflect his relief.

She smiled, too, more closed this time, and shook her head. "As I told your friends, that information is property of me and my superiors. It should be enough to know that it _does_ work." Her face became more serious. "As long as you don't fight the seal, but work with it, you will not transform again."

He regarded her more cautiously, his smile dimming. "Ah," he hummed, beginning carefully. "Forgive me for being wary, but how can I put my trust in this thing? I mean, there's a voodoo tattoo on my back that's supposed to stop me from turning into a half-ton monster?" Where was the empirical evidence; the scholarly journals that could point to testing done in different demographics and still say that preference for success landed in the center of forty-something white males?

Sakura's smile turned decidedly more restrained, and she opened her mouth to speak when the door beyond them opened and Phil Coulson strode into the room. Natasha Romanov was right behind him, along with Barton. Rogers was there, too, standing in the doorway with his winsome smile, toned down in light of the situation.

Bruce's skepticism increased at the sight of the group en masse. Clearing his throat, he anchored himself to the bed, trying to relax as much as possible. This was the point where they told him they were going to lock him in the chamber and gas him, right?

"Good to see you awake," Natasha started before the others could say anything. The arrangement around his bed was dispersed in a comforting manner, more so than a guard detail, and he felt an uncharacteristic prickle of relief.

"Yeah," he said calmly, a verbal shrug.

"How are you feeling?" Coulson asked then, straight to business. Rogers smile disappeared altogether, and Barton's eyes flashed to Sakura, who was shifting her gaze between the five of them equally. This was the crux of her work, a non-SHIELD agent in the midst of four of the best the organization could muster. Five, if he included himself.

"For me, excellent," he answered honestly. The bar had been set so low for so many years, that to say he felt "normal" would have done no justice to the state of calm his mind felt. Coulson gave him a small, sincere smile, and nodded.

"We're glad to hear it. Director Fury sends his regards, by the way. He would have liked to be here in person, but duty calls elsewhere."

"That's just as well," Bruce answered, not feeling disappointed that the hard-edged man was not in attendance. He respected their- commanding officer? He could easily imagine Tony laughing at the term. Whatever Fury was, Banner respected him, but his brand of interaction was not to Bruce's own tastes. "So did you guys see my new tattoo?" he asked, gesturing quickly to his shoulder.

Coulson's eyes instead moved to Sakura, who smiled blandly, but otherwise showed no emotion, and he answered, "Miss Haruno has informed us of her application of the seal. We were very impressed with its initial effects, more so now that you're awake. You've been asleep since yesterday afternoon."

"As I said," the outsider interjected, "his own body is more responsible for the exhaustion than anything the seal did." Bruce watched her for another moment, not sure if that was completely true, but too engrossed in the implications of seals efficacy to be very unsettled.

"So… it does work?" he asked, curiosity plastered on his face as he glanced from Coulson to Natasha to Clint. Even Barton was having a hard time holding his smile in. This time Sakura did sigh, her smile completely gone as clasped her hands behind her back. Annoyance radiated off of her and he smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, you just have to realize what a big deal this is." Talk about ironic understatements.

She shook her head, smiling again and said, "Not at all. As I said, my people have experience in matters such as these." She hesitated as if she might say something else, then deflated, and finally said, "I'm just glad you appreciate what has been done for you." Bruce's mouth quirked wryly. How could he not appreciate it?

Before he could ask, Coulson interjected, "Just the same, neither Miss Haruno nor her company are being forthcoming with the process of how their application works. Therefore, we'd like to keep you for a few more days and run some tests." Bruce glanced between Coulson and Sakura, both wearing unapologetic poker faces, and he nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds fine." Turning to the young woman he asked, "Do you mind if I pick your brain a little bit? From the perspective of a physicist, that is."

She shrugged and said, "I'm more of a biologist myself." Her face turned serious as she added, "There will be little I can tell you without violating the laws of my Village." Then more softly, she added, "But I will help you in what way I can."

Coulson took the opportunity to nod to Barton and Romanov, who departed from the room. He followed after them with a promise to check in in a few hours. It was Steve who came forward to Sakura and took her hand, giving it a measured, but enthusiastic, shaking. Bruce watched the petite young woman flush as the Captain praised her for her efficient and brave work.

"O-of course," she said dutifully, and was still rosy-cheeked when Rogers departed from the room. "Your friends are… nice," she said, resuming her seat once more.

"I don't know if I could call any of them besides Rogers nice," he countered. "But they get the job done."

Sakura shook her head, "I've been here since you arrived, making sure the seal worked with proper efficiency. But they've all been in at various times to check on your condition. More so than the doctors or nurses."

Bruce frowned thoughtfully, and tried to ignore the implication that they came more frequently than the staff because the staff would not be able to protect themselves if he did Hulk out on them. Sakura seemed to trust her instincts, though, so he kept the cynical thought to himself.

"Are you a nurse, too?" he asked instead, combining the revelation that she had stayed with her earlier actions with the mirror.

"No. Perhaps a doctor… In the way you think of a doctor, I mean. At home I'm a medic, more suited to combat medicine and life-threatening injuries." He nodded, filing away her simple statement, without gloating or inflation.

A girl, or a young woman, with training in medicine who could hit as hard as the Hulk, had been hired by SHIELD to assist when they could not. To resume control when they could not. This was his life right now, a story that sounded like something regurgitated from the rabbit hole. He sighed breathily and asked, "So what do you know about molecular biology?"

* * *

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed! If so or if not, please leave a review :) Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

I'd just like to say that I was fairly overwhelmed with the response this story got so quickly after just it's second chapter. Not only did people really seem to appreciate it, but far more people than I anticipated actually reviewed. It really lifted my spirits and motivated me to write a good deal more of the story. Needless to say, it's getting a bit longer. It's probably up to five chapters now. Anyway, since this one was mostly ready, here you go. Please ignore any spelling mistakes or tense problems as I wrote this and did not let it sit and then review, as I normally do.

Also, this chapter is fairly info-dumpy. Please bear with me.

* * *

Sakura decided to stay on during the week of Bruce's recovery. Her own curiosity about his transformation as well as a desire to see the seal reach full effectiveness delayed her departure.

How his body continued to tolerate a transformation with no developed chakra system was something that did not cease to confuse and surprise her. Every time she had seen Sasuke's curse seal flare, the transformation had been mild, though a shock to her younger self, and Naruto had admitted it had become something more monstrous later, but it had always, always been tied to his chakra. The curse had been so pervasive as to leave him drained each time it had flared.

Bruce had transformed this way several times over the past few years, and each time he had been tired after transforming back, but not in the way she had personally witnessed. Yet, it was not supposed to be the application of the seal that affected him so adversely. She had seen to it herself, after seeing what Sasuke had endured as Kakashi's inhibitory seal had wracked his body with pain and prolonged weariness. There was no getting around the pain, but it was a miniscule amount, as far as she was concerned. Maybe it was emotional stress that had undone her current patient?

His condition reminded her of reports from the Fourth War. Information from Cloud had given some insight into a nin, who had been under Orochimaru's control for some time. Apparently, he had been the one to provide the initial serum for the curse seals. What had his name been, again? Chuugo? Shuuga?

Sakura shook her head free of the old memory as she turned the third page of the Times, underlining new vocabulary that she still did not recognize. Her seal had been designed to specification based on what information she had been given before seeing the green "man" in action. She was still confident in its overall effectiveness, but that did not mean that Bruce could not interact with it better.

He had not stayed in bed beyond their initial meeting. That very afternoon they had taken to the gym only a few floors below to work through the beginnings of physiotherapy. As she had thought, his actual musculature had not been harmed, nor his framework as a whole. The seal had already bonded with his system, his overlaying chakra system working as a cage to suppress the Other Guy. Chakra points on their own were weak enough, but together, they created a lattice that would suppress the transformation, even in a system as underdeveloped as his.

It had, and still, amused him to realize that a well-developed chakra system, and training in its application, was essentially the only difference between Sakura and the normal person on the street. Of course, she had contended, somewhat offended by the base comparison, her training was such that she was still far and away, more capable than him or any of his teammates. Given that she had single-handedly taken him down without a mark, he had seemed inclined to believe her. In the end, though, his comparison, and the other questions that followed, had only been curious. Sakura had given up being offended and simply laughed.

He did not transform once during the entire finalization.

It was not for her lack of provocation, though. How else could she be sure that he would remain himself even after an unexpected trigger?

Four days after they had begun the physiochakratherapy, they had met in SHIELD'S employee gym. It was a smaller room, but had several amenities and even some machines that she had never seen before. On an open, floor mat she had called his name, waited for him to turn, and promptly slapped him in the face. Even without chakra it was still hard enough to leave a mark.

The handful of other agents working out had turned at the sound with some surprise, then had all stilled when they saw just who had received the painful slap. Sakura had not noticed the others, but had fixed her eyes promptly on the face of her patient, who had stared at her in a disproportionate kind of alarm before bowing his head and hiding his eyes. She had been nervous for a few moments, watching in the mirror behind him as the seal writhed in a wreath of fire. None of their audience moved or attempted to draw attention to themselves. Sakura had waited.

Bruce had finally lifted his head, his face a deep pink from where her hand had connected, and tenderly rubbed his shoulder, saying, "Give me some warning before you do that next time." For all his demure demeanor, the words were not a request. Sakura had grinned at him and nodded pleasantly, ignoring the fainting agents around her as she directed him to the mirror. It had only taken a moment to assure him that the seal was still intact, and then, he too had smiled.

* * *

Watching the footage of Sakura completely outmaneuvering of him was more encouraging than humbling. How many men could say they appreciated having a leash? The question pulled a wry smirk to his face as he watched for the sixth time, her clones, as she had called them, surround him. They ran in a coordinated, but unsynchronized loop, increasing the illusion of their separate identities, but they all acted in concert. Briefly he remembered a not-so-long-ago briefing on Loki. Thor had told them about his ability to make copies of himself- illusions, but effective, still. That thought jumped to wondering how Thor would have handled the self-proclaimed ninja. Newton for newton, they could beat each other, and probably speed as well, Bruce theorized. Could Sakura fly, too? She had not discussed her arsenal of abilities, so he was not entirely ruling it out.

He shook his head, staring again at the screen as she delivered a sound punch to the Other Guy's face. Then was waving a banner of some kind, ironic, in her free hand.

"We retrieved that scroll," Clint said from behind him, and he glanced back to see the marksman stirring a cup of steaming something. "Nothing on it now, though. Just paper." Bruce nodded and faced the television again. Nothing special about the paper, but it had been something special at one point in time. That bag of tricks, again. He briefly wondered why SHIELD had not sequestered her for questioning yet. Wasn't that their MO? They had certainly tried with him in India. He sighed heavily, remembering the good that had come out of the meeting with Natasha Romanov, and not the bad.

It was easy to think of why SHIELD had not questioned Sakura. Who on earth- or in the organization, at least- could make her do anything she didn't want to do? What facility would hold her? What question would she answer that she did not want to answer?

His fifth day after waking up in an unfamiliar bed, Bruce submitted himself to a few blood tests. It had been a while since anyone but he had taken his own blood, and Sakura had stood nearby as much for the other agents' peace of mind as real necessity.

"This hardware is amazing," she murmured, looking over the different pieces of equipment.

"Yeah, this is the kind of stuff you can buy when you're operating with government funding."

"Is that a bad thing?" Sakura asked, somewhat naively in his opinion. "Shouldn't the citizens contribute funding to the institution that protects them?" Bruce blinked at her, immediately understanding her position from her defensive tone.

"Ah, didn't you say something about your village being kind of small?" He continued on quickly as he saw her begin to bristle at the ill-perceived slight, "Just imagine a nation as huge as this one, running a government of proportional size. The tendency towards corruption is…" He shook his head as he turned towards the recorded microscopy from the workup. More quietly he added, "Just because SHIELD does a good deed now and then doesn't mean there isn't corruption here, too."

A quick glance in his periphery saw her staring at the monitor with an unfocused gaze. Some idea had invaded her, thinning her breath as she concentrated on it. He pointed to the screen in front of them as the recording began playing through. Her eyes snapped into focus again, lightening the mood of her face as he pointed out the substrates her recognized as antigen markers.

"These are… antibodies?" she asked, once again searching for the word and not the concept. He nodded, clarifying the terminology. He had not had access to this kind of machinery the last time he had done a total blood count. Essentially this was the most empirical insight he had ever had into himself. "I understand what you're trying to do here," she said, gesturing to the whole screen, "but these pathways are different than the roads we use. They rely more on blood and chemistry than our chakra and… maybe what you would call… nanka… intuition?"

Bruce nodded, grinning despite his lack of understanding on chakra. It obviously worked, whatever it was. "Maybe your village and SHIELD could form some kind of cooperation? Obviously there are things we could learn from you. Maybe it goes both ways?"

"Ee~eh?" she breathed, still staring at the screen. She laughed, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully at him as she smirked, "I should pursue such an alliance after hearing about the corruption?"

The seal did not fail.

Sakura continued to assure him, and other Avengers when they were present, that it would not lapse, and yes, it would burn like fire if he tried to push it beyond its capabilities.

"Is this aversion therapy?" he asked at one point, grinning at her confusion.

She did tell him a little bit about her village, when he was direct enough to ask about it. It was ecologically lush, and culturally tight-knit. She had originally thought it a large place, but it was actually rather small, especially compared to the City.

When he asked her if she liked New York, she said, "It's pretty from high up. My room has a nice view, but I haven't seen the rest of it very much. After our sessions, I like to enjoy the accommodations. I've never worked in a place this nice. My bathtub is like its own onsen."

"You want to go out and see the city?" he asked. It was a nice idea, going out for some calm time on the town. Seeing the sights. When was the last time he had just been able to walk around and not worry about turning into a monster?

Her unsure expression dampened the pleasantness of the idea, as she asked, "With you?"

"Yeah, I've been around before. I know a few good places to go. Not a ton, but it's not like it would take all night, anyway."

"Anou…" she stalled, interrupting his train of thought, "Bruce. I appreciate the offer and being able to be of assistance, but I'm in a committed relationship, so-" She stopped speaking as a mild, but completely genuine laugh rolled out of his mouth. Her face was pink, and carefully neutral when he looked at her again.

"So am I," he said, thinking of Betty Ross, of how he could not wait to speak to her again, and how the only thing stopping him was his hesitation over the seal. Even that was becoming less of an excuse, though, the more Sakura reassured him. "I'm just talking about dinner and some walking around the city."

She blushed again, frowning in embarrassment at her confusion, and quickly said, "You're buying."

They took a cab to the waterfront. Bruce figured that since she was Asian, she might appreciate a different approach to seafood. Somewhat to his consternation, she chose sushi. At the first bite, though, her eyes widened.

"Whoa, this is way better than what we get at home," she admitted, then ate another roll. As he watched her eat the third bite, while he was still on the first bite of his burger, he was glad that SHIELD was going to be footing the bill for this venture. "This salmon is exceptionally good," she said, her eyes focused as she chewed, as if she were dissecting an exceptionally difficult problem. Bruce filed the fact away for later. Bad sushi restaurants or far from quality seafood? He could not help but be curious about the clandestine location of her village, if such a place existed.

One sip into her third beer, she admitted, "I'll probably be leaving soon. I'm glad you've made so much progress."

He was too, come to that, but he said instead, "Duty calls?"

She shrugged ambiguously and said, "The mission is over." She was unwilling to tell him that she was really only going back to her apartment to wait for the next mission from Konoha to arrive. Maybe she could go to that group he had mentioned a few days ago. Zalier's? Sabier's? Why did everyone hear have such weird names?

"All the same, I wanted to ask you a question."

"Shoot," he conceded.

"Why did you do it?" At his frown of confusion, she clarified, "Why did you want this power?" He was still frowning, his expression unchanged, and she sighed, running a finger through the condensation from her mug. "The others I've known of with this condition… they were always seeking power." Directly, she asked, "What kind of place were you in that you needed so much power?"

When she looked at him again, his back was completely straight, different from the normal slouch she saw him in, "You think I wanted this?" he asked calmly. Too calmly for her to know how upset he was.

"Didn't you?" she pressed, loose-lipped from the drink and frustrated with her own experience.

"NO!" he shouted, summoning silence through the rest of the restaurant. His hand slapped over his shoulder at the reflexive burn, ignorant to the reaction to his outburst. Sakura watched him, making no move to intervene. She had not intended to upset him so. Honest as he was, she had expected at worst a withdrawal, but at best an honest answer. A denial had not entered her mind as a possibility. Now that he was upset, though, she could not hold his hand to get him through it.

"It was an accident," he continued through gritted teeth. Then he sighed, and straightened to a slouch again. Sakura could see the metamorphosis, even without the Other Guy. "There was a radiation bomb, I got exposed. The rest is history."

She stared at him silently, and when he did not look at her, she turned back to her beer. The shame she felt was not a new feeling, but it was one she had not felt in a long time. How long had it been since she had made such an erroneous assumption? So carelessly she had thought he had sought power, like Sasuke, like the team from Sound that had nearly killed Chouji and Neji. She forgot to think of the others Orochimaru had "gifted" his seal to. How many of them, those who had survived, had come away with powers they did not want? With responsibilities chained to their lives until they succumbed? To either the curse or to death?

"I've been working under the wrong impression," she said, feeling a clogging lump in her throat.

"That's an understatement," Bruce said flatly, not sharing the same problem of finding volume in for his words. He threw a few bills onto the countertop and stood. "If you want a ride back to the tower, it's time to go."

Neither said anything as they stepped back outside, but Sakura did not need words to see how agitated he was. His arm waving frantically through the air, he tried to hail several of the yellow vehicles. None stopped, which only served to agitate him further. The evening was warm, and he had not worn a coat. Sakura imagined that she could see the seal firing its way round and round beneath the opaque fabric of his shirt.

"I'm sorry," she called over the din of traffic. Not because he needed calming, and not because there was some obligation to say the words, but because she was.

"Don't worry about it," he said vaguely, still trying to summon transportation.

"No," she said, and this time her voice was firm. "I was wrong, and I did nothing to try to correct my misinterpretation."

His arm stopped flailing and finally settled against his side. He turned to look at her, and the hurt in his eyes was more calming to her than his forced neutrality- the tight clamp he kept on his emotions.

"Maybe we should walk a little ways."

Sakura nodded and fell into step beside him, her stride shorter and quicker than his. They walked in silence, her continuing to stew in her shame. How could she have made someone feel so horrible about a situation that could not be helped? Was she twelve again, a genin with no common sense or people sense and not much of a brain? She felt like smacking herself.

She felt better about her skills of perception a few minutes later when she calmly and quietly announced, "We're being followed."

She expected better from a man who was a unit of a superhero team, but Bruce turned around almost entirely, entirely amateurishly, to see their followers. Simultaneously a pair of darkly clothed people stepped onto the street in front of her. A pair behind and a pair in front made four against two, she counted, then sighed. "Now would probably be a good time for a cab."

"Can't call a cab if you don't have cash," one of the ones behind her spoke, the accent strange enough that she had to strain to make sense of the words. Bruce was reaching for the pocket she knew he kept his wallet when she stepped backward, angling her body to keep an eye on all four of the group.

"Out of the question," she interrupted, inwardly indignant. Petty robbery in a city as rich as this one? Where were the police to keep this kind of behavior under control? And why weren't these people being looked after to avoid this behavior in the first place. "Bruce, call for a cab."

In response, the one who had spoken, lifted the hem of a bulky sweater, exposing a black metal handle, obtusely angled from the anchor that was hidden in the waist of a pair of faded jeans. She had seen the projectile weapons on television here, and recognized the threat for what it was. It only made her angrier.

"Hey now," Bruce tried calmly, "Things don't have to get serious."

"You had better hope that something doesn't trigger than before you can pull it out of your pants," Sakura warned grimly. Her fingers clenched at her side, chakra tingling in her palm… waiting. There were four of them. Even with a projectile weapon, she could handle two of them and block Bruce before they could harm him. How fast could they really be?

She was about to slip into a crouch, her eyes already on her first target, when the thick sound of a wallet hitting the ground interrupted her thoughts. Green eyes snapped to where Bruce was removing his watch as well. It followed with the sound of a pachinko ball, and he glanced between the pairs of assailants, saying only, "We're leaving now." She was still blinking at his possessions, quickly absorbing microorganisms and whatever filth were on the ground, unable to put her injustice into words, when Bruce led her away from the group.

They took two steps back, fully into the road, when a tongue-clucking broke through the haze of her anger. She looked up and saw the leader of the group, the one who had spoken and threatened them, stepping forward.

"You know that's not quite enough for all the trouble you've caused us. We're on a bit of a deadline and we've already gotten behind on our quota because we had to put up with resistance." Eyes fell on Sakura and she blazed back, her own eyes narrowing. "Had you just been a little more generous to begin with."

She did not hesitate anymore, stepping in front of her charge as he grasped his shoulder.

* * *

Small bit of a cliffhanger. There will be quite a load of more action in the next chapter. Thanks for hanging in there with me :)

Oh, and I am unable to answer your questions if you have PM blocked or you're on anon :)

If you enjoyed it, have more questions, etc., please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you again for your reviews, kind readers, and for overlooking my grammatical and spelling mistakes of the previous chapter.

Inspiration for fight scenes was taken from The Glitch Mob Remix of Seven Nation Army. I highly recommend it.

* * *

For a moment he wondered why he was not able to transform. The fire in his shoulder felt like a phantom pain, meant to be ignored. It was the seal's fugacity, but only for a moment.

He remembered its power to restrain as Sakura tensed, the divots in her shoulders dimpling with preparatory effort. How had they come to this, and so suddenly? Held at gunpoint, pushed into a corner, and he could do nothing but stand behind a woman barely out of girlhood. She might be clever and fast, but smoke and mirrors would not stop bullets.

He was still worrying about their predicament, neither group moving, when the outermost of the four went down. Bruce jumped reflexively, and the burning in his shoulder redoubled, leaving his arm to hang uselessly. Everyone but Sakura turned to see the fallen attacker. The next was felled as Sakura's twin unleashed a series of fast, merciless punches. Another clone? The strikes sounded rain drops and landed like tidal waves. She had grabbed the gun, dismantled it and moved to the third assailant before the second hit the ground.

A knife was pulled, snapping open so quickly that Bruce only caught a glint of its light before it thrust forward. He saw a flash of blood- projectile- arteries. Sakura's body began to crumple, but the real one was still standing in front of him, wasn't she, before an explosion filled the whole area with smoke and dust. There was no fire, no heat, but he was blinded, his hair pulled up to its tips in the gusting. He sensed movement in front of him, and the seal was burning so badly he was no longer trying to work in concert with it.

What the hell was happening? Had Sakura been hurt? Was she the fake, or was the one who had defended them the fake, the clone? He had not been able to tell them apart before the fighting had started, and he certainly could not trust his eyes now.

The sound of chaotic feet trampling the ground alarmed him almost as much as his blindness, "Sakura!" There was no response to his shout, but it was quickly followed by several grunts and groans. A man's voice rang and then a woman's shouted a word he could not understand.

One single gunshot pierced through the smoke, and it was punctuated with another scream. More curls and tendrils of dust whorled and whipped their way upward and Bruce reached his arm into the cloud, grasping blindly for the young woman. Who had been hit? Who was hurt?

His heart was wide open. He should have transformed three times over by now, so much adrenaline had flooded his system. A loud thump wafted the dust farther. Bruce pushed forward, nearly tripping over the fallen bodies. Two small hands caught him, holding him still, and he could barely make out the outline of Sakura's face as the dust finally began to clear.

"Are you all right?" she asked calmly. It was only slightly gratifying to hear the seriousness in her voice. If she had been flippant the seal would have broken and he would have completely lost it. Of that much he was sure.

"Yeah," he said reflexively. "Are you?" She nodded, the motion abbreviated, and then continued taking stock of the ground around her. He could see her eyes fixing on the fallen. Could she see them as clearly as he could not? She seemed satisfied one way or the other with the diagnosis of their muggers. Were they dead? Alive? She had just charged them, people with knives and guns, and- "Are you out of your fucking mind!" he snapped, jerking his arms out of her hands.

That surprised her, her eyes whipping back around to his with berth and confusion.

"You could have gotten yourself killed! You could have gotten _me_ killed."

Then, most surprising of all that had just happened, she rolled her eyes. She was being flippant. He was about to lose it. How could she not take this more seriously?

"My actions would have made that the least likely outcome."

"But you just…!" The dust finally settled. There were four people lying on the ground, arms and legs akimbo. None of them were moving. "That was a stupid thing to do," he shouted, still shaken and still stuffed to the gills with fight or flight.

Even in his periphery he could see her straighten at the statement. Her mouth worked to form a reply, and then quickly shut, words unspoken. It did not take a genius to see that she was holding onto her patience by its last tethers.

She did not look at him in that moment, pale pink fringe hiding her eyes. Her fist was clenched, though, and he could imaging the bones creaking in the force of her grasp.

"We should go," she said at last. Her eyes cut to his, as hard as the jade they resembled, "We need to get back to the Tower and make sure the seal hasn't degraded since you stressed it so much." The accusation was clear. If the seal malfunctioned it was his fault. Never mind that she had nearly given him a heart attack with her battle-happy attitude.

It was true that he was still feeling the effects of an adrenaline rush that he had not felt in years. It had less to do with being held at gunpoint than being in control of himself while dopamine and other pain agonists had flooded his brain. A very small part of him conceded that it felt good to be able to shout and be angry and rage without losing himself.

"What about the four of them?" he asked loudly, acting on the almost subconscious realization.

"They'll wake up in a few minutes!" she snapped back, already stepping away. "It would be best not to be here. One idiot is dangerous enough," she finished haughtily, crossing the street to an off-duty cabbie. Bruce frowned, feeling further riled by her insult. How many people had witnessed the incident? From the way the taxi's light suddenly flickered on, at least one. He followed after her, backtracking to retrieve his wallet and watch. The gun pieces he kicked into a nearby sewer drain. Let the rats deal with it.

In the car, Sakura sighed heavily, but said nothing. The trip back was mostly silent as they traveled to the center of the island.

In the silence, Bruce calmed. He was still angry about her insult, but probably no angrier than she had been at having her competence questioned. Had his reaction been too harsh? Was he blowing things out of proportion? They had been held at gunpoint, after all. But he had been working toward a non-violent solution. Wasn't that the better option?

Each of his questions edged toward an answer he was almost confident in, except for Sakura's persistent silence. She had handled everything, but why did she have to off and just act against people with a gun? Didn't they have guns where she came from? The gun _had_ gone off. She was only lucky that she had not been shot.

"I shouldn't have shouted," he said dully, "That was mean," vaguely reminiscent of some months not too long ago. Sakura just looked at him, her eyes more expressive than any words. He sighed, and added, "It's just been too often that my efforts at resolving situations have ended in violence…" Her eyes softened to the degree that she could show she was listening. "It was in my control, and I just wanted to resolve it like… a normal man."

There was no sympathy in her stare, as tolerant as she was of his explanation. All at once, she looked away again, arms crossed defensively. They traveled another block, at which point she asked, "And what is the point of being part of a unit that fights and commits violence?" Bruce frowned, shaking his head. It was a divergent question and not at all germane to their current situation.

"The Avengers are different," he countered.

"How so?" she asked, not backing down.

"Standing as earth's last line of defense and reasoning with muggers are two different things," he explained. He was in control again. Calm. He felt like himself again and wondered why he had let himself go at all.

"So you'll accept using violence against the unknown for protection, but will allow yourself to be subjugated by fear and violence from the very people who should be united with you?"

"You're making it too black and white. There are police for what you're talking about."

"I didn't see any police coming to our defense."

Unable to counter that point, Bruce rerouted to the core of the issue, "Is it right to solve all problems with violence?"

And Sakura did likewise, "Do you want the seal removed?"

He started again, words failing him for a moment. How did that question have any merit in the conversation at all?

"Of course not!"

She was still eyeing him, though, almost as if his hesitation had been its own answer, "I saw the pain it caused you. You wanted the Other Guy to break free-"

"That's nonsense-"

"And if the seal ruptures under duress, you'll be in a worse situation than if you had removed it properly."

He frowned heavily, remembering that particular conversation during one of their early therapy sessions. Sakura looked away from him, neither content nor satisfied. He watched her for a moment, watched her shallow breath and tense posture. Maybe the fight took more out of her than she had let on. She had been fighting four targets, after all.

The cab finally stopped, and Sakura hesitated briefly. Bruce did not give her the opportunity to start up again, but paid the driver and then opened her door. She took the hand that he extended, her expression still neutral. At least she could pretend to be diplomatic when she wanted to.

At the front door, the doorman met them quickly, holding up both hands to bar their entry. He was smiling at both of them, grinning somewhat manically. Bruce frowned, knowing George well enough, and unable to recall ever seeing a similar expression on his face.

"Sorry, you'll have to use a side door because the ground floor is being fumigated."

Eyes wide, Bruce nodded, and pulled Sakura away from the front door. She followed, eyes cutting from George back to him.

"Is something wrong? What's fumigation?"

"It's a code. Someone's breached the building without permission."

She matched his pace, her eyes sharp, reticence forgone, "An enemy?"

"We have to expect it is."

"What are you going to do?" They rounded the corner of Stark Tower. Bruce had no intention of entering the building, despite the code word. That was just code, and not a real command.

"Convene with the Avengers and, uh…" He glanced down at her concerned face. "Wait for orders?"

"But what are _you_ going to do?" she pressed. "You're not a fighter. Not anymore."

He stared at her with a new kind of understanding. Besides the Chitauri there had never been a need for the Other Guy, but just because he couldn't fight on the same scale did not mean he was helpless.

Just the same, whoever had infiltrated the building was an unknown. He could only imagine that Black Widow or Hawkeye doing a retro-infiltration. Or a counter-infiltration? He didn't know the terminology.

When he turned back to explain himself, Sakura was several feet away, her head tilted back to look towards Tony's balcony. He followed her line of sight in time to see an orange and white explosion burst from one of the higher floors. He jerked back reflexively, dancing away as Sakura pulled him out of the blast radius into the shelter of an inset door. Glass and debris rained down on the street a split second later. He heard a distant scream- bright and punctual, fear rather than pain.

Sakura muttered something foreign, probably profanity, if he could gauge the tone.

"Find the others," she commanded sharply, stepping out of the shelter. Bruce watched her, following her without hesitation. "I'm going to find out what's going on."

"Wait- what?" he demanded, eyes darting upward and then back to her again, who did not take her gaze off of the target so high above her. "You don't even know where the source of the problem is!" It only occurred to him later that her safety was not his primary concern. She could take care of herself.

At his statement her eyes narrowed, and she smirked. It was the expression he was coming to associate with a devious side of her. "Mou," she intoned playfully, "When in doubt, follow the boom."

As if heralding the noise, another explosion rang out above them. Bruce ducked back into the alcove, and he thought Sakura was following him, but instead he saw her running full speed at the building.

"Waitwaitwait!" he shouted, as the second wave of debris hit the ground. When safe, he darted out, glancing left, but she was gone. He glanced back up to the source of the explosions, and promptly relaxed, arms slackening, knees wobbling.

She was not climbing. She was not jumping. Either of those actions would have been incredulous enough. She was running. Up the side of the building. She was running up the side of the building, completely perpendicular, as easily as if she were running on a flat surface. A flat, grounded, parallel-to-the-earth's-core surface. Ten feet up, momentum should have given out, and she should have fallen flat on her back, but she was already at twenty feet. At thirty feet, he waited for her to fall- at forty, at fifty. It was a completely perpendicular ascent, arms swinging wildly to destroy the debris in her pathway.

She was ten stories up before he finally realized she was not going to fall. Gravity was not going to suddenly apply to her as it did the rest of them. This was not an illusion. There were no other copies of her floating around to manipulate reality. It was not any technology he could see from his angle on the ground. Magnets, maybe? But her speed and mass made that option seem unlikely.

Her pathway, her very climb was something unnatural.

"Getting a good view?" a voice asked behind him, and he jumped again, surprised by the arrival of Agent Coulson and Director Fury. The former looked unflappable, even while wielding an umbrella to shield himself from the constant drizzle of debris. Fury held his ground, unprotected, looking as constipated as ever. More so than usual, actually. The one-eyed SHIELD director watched his consultant's ascent for another moment before muttering under his breath and turning towards the front door.

Bruce turned and followed them back into the building without another word.

* * *

She did not know why it mattered, why she had felt such a strong urge to find the source of this problem. There was not even an urge, actually. There had not been much consideration, just the right thing to do and doing it. She was not getting paid anymore for doing this than she already had for the extra therapy for Bruce. She did not have to stick her neck out for anyone. It was not _her_ problem.

"But I like these SHIELD people," she thought as she disintegrated a chunk of concrete. Small chips falling on the ground were better than large ones. "And who am I kidding? I've always been a soft touch." Presently, she stopped herself from thinking about it anymore.. Neck-deep, the "why" was not important. She had put her foot in it, and now she had to see it through.

Sakura was rapidly closing in on the clustering smoke and dust motes trying to settle to the ground. The wind was already heavier and colder, practically nonexistent on the ground. In her periphery, the rest of the metropolis pulsed and glittered like diamonds on a shore. She could have reached out and scooped up a handful of glittering lights. Another gust of frightfully cold air brought her attention back to the matter at hand. Only a few hundred meters more and she would be there. Wherever there was. No voices echoed down, and the explosions told her that the incendiaries could not have been very large.

When her hand grasped the edge of the opening, it was a mostly glass-free space, though it had been a floor to ceiling window at one point. She lifted her head over the edge, ignoring the fact that she was suspended several hundred meters in the air.

There was too much particulate matter to see very far. She did not have the Byakugan or a nose capable of tracking in blind conditions. She relied on her eyes and her ears. Ears she still had.

With a swift motion, she swung her body up into the room, landing with a crunch of glass and debris that was loud even in the muffled air. It took a moment to find a solid edge, a wall that she pressed against. It had a little bit of give but still held.

Sakura glided forward slowly, her ears tuned to input, one hand extended in front of her, while the other pressed against the wall.

There was a hum of energy, high-pitched until it reached beyond her range of hearing, and a hydraulic hiss.

"I don't know who you are," a close voice announced, "but you have five seconds to get the hell out of my house."

* * *

There are some natural breaks in the chapter that, when utilized as full chapter breaks, make updates faster and a bit easier. As for the end of this chapter, dun dun dun!

If you enjoy the story, if you have questions or comments, please leave a review :) Thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

Two updates in two days? Why not. Thanks to everyone who has continued to review. If you haven't reviewed, booooo. Enjoy the story, anyway :)

* * *

"My house," she heard, and remembered Bruce's caution that the forbidden entrant into the Tower was probably an enemy. The two were opposed positions, and she trusted Bruce's insight over the one who had caused explosions and destruction to her employer's base of operations. It took a split second to recognize the reality of the threat, decide her course of action and then duck into flowing crouch. Her leg extended, channeling chakra with an extra powerful, cautionary burst of energy.

It connected sharply against a hard leg that tilted and sent its body toppling. The sound of falling was not the thick, meaty sound of human matter- it was tinny and clunky. Sakura side-flipped, still well aware of the window at her back and the wind pulling dust into her eyes. She was on her feet again when she heard the shadowy form rising, a whir of machinery, more hydraulics, and a man's threatening grumble. Distance, she needed distance, before she could determine the skill of her enemy and the complete level of the threat.

Machinery and metal. Obviously there was some foreign technology at work; durable, too, if the blazing pain in her leg was any indication.

"That was a wasted five seconds," the annoyed voice echoed again, but the dust was clearing and she could see a humanoid shape through the debris. A hand was pointing at her, fingers spread. From it, a blast of white light and heat cut through the air, grazing her shoulder as she barely dodged out of the narrow field between them. More chips of debris rained against her back as she dropped into a crouch to protect herself. This was the same kind of explosion she had heard from the ground only minutes before.

The enemy raised his hand again, she saw as she lifted her head. The origin of the power rested in his palm, pulsing slowly. A jutsu, she theorized carefully, but her body was already moving again. Another blast, and another rush of dust, but she could now see that he was not human at all. It was a machine, red and golden. A third time, the hand lifted at her, wobbling in a tired, unfocused way, and Sakura paused. Was it programmed with human reflexes? What purpose was there in programming such weakness, except to confuse her?

Another blast of light, overlaid with a squeal of preparation, sailed over her head as she ducked low, but this time there was no pause. The attacks came in a succinct staccato that had her dancing a dodging kata across the floor and through the air. Jutsu or no, machine or no, the thing was fast, and she did not want to see what one of the blasts would do to human skin. The shoulder of her shirt had disintegrated in the path of the attack that had clipped her.

Sakura was closing the distance, though, shrinking her own to maneuverability to draw closer. The sooner she could end this the safer she would be. Bruce, as he was now, would not have lasted half a minute against this enemy. She had to see this through for his sake. Pressed as she was for time and space, she remembered one hundred puppets, raining down on her with blades and certain death, and the constriction in her chest loosened. She could do this.

The hand was angling to face her again, palm glowing bright. She briefly noted the crystalline structure containing the light before she slipped past the delayed defense and firmly connected her fist to the red and gold helmet. The machine rocketed off of its feet again, in a most satisfying way, landing several meters back. The punch had utilized her modified strength. To attack any other way would have been a risk she was unwilling to take.

Sakura did not give it time to recuperate but was about to grind her heels into its torso when it emitted a low, masculine groan, shoulders and hips tensing as it tried to lift itself. There was a bright light in its chest, but the ones in its hands had dimmed, and she hesitated. That sound had been far too human and the biological motions of a person She could see up close that the machine was big, like the tracing of a hand on paper in comparison to the real thing. Was the metal a casing?

Her hesitation cost her. Without lifting a hand, part of the chest plate retracted, and two sharp projectiles flared out of the metal plating, catching her in the shoulder and sternum. They hit like Tsunade and exploded like tags even as she was catapulted into the air. Fire stole the air, stole her breath, licked at her nose and eyes and lips in a way that was hot- hot- hot.

She ran from the blast radius, too well-trained to evade jutsu to have much practice in escaping them. No one had ever set her on fire, either. It was a small blast radius, despite the sheer power of it, and she was able to roll out of it quickly, nearly rolling out of the window to do so. With precious time, she continued rolling back and forth on the ground, smothering the last of the flame that had tried to glue to her. Panting, she climbed to her feet, nearly groaning at the croak of her ribs with each breath. Her xyloid process felt like it had completely sheared from her sternum.

The room was still burning. She had not been the only casualty of the incendiaries. Around her some of the pieces of furniture had caught fire, there was melted leather, and even a large section of the wall was giving off plumes of smoke. How much more stress could this building handle?

She ducked down for a few precious seconds of recuperation. Not far away she could hear the sound of hydraulics hissing. The machine was moving again. She needed a distraction, and she had enough chakra for one Shadow.

When she rose from her crouch behind the partially melted sofa, she could see the Hulk, that green beastly figure from just says before, standing around the corner. Purposeful and undistracted, she barely noted his speed, one that matched hers foot for foot, as both of them took off toward the metal-thing. His voice roared, echoing into the room and shaking her eardrums. He reared back a hand, ready to punch the metal figure through the wall, when to her surprise, both red and gold arms raised in a gesture of surrender to the creature. The Hulk paused, causing the humanoid to relax.

Twice now, though, she had allowed herself to hesitate. She would not do it again. Her own arm reared back, full strength in her fist, and she punched him in the chest. The metal casing landed somewhere in the next room, and she followed after it without pausing. In the dusty, cloudy foyer, she raised her foot to crack through the case like the shell of a nut and expose either the guts of a machine or the guts of the person inside. Either way this would soon be over.

"STOP!" A familiar voice shouted, and Sakura lurched, nearly losing her balance as she held her foot aloft. She glanced in her periphery to see Bruce, the real Bruce and not her clone of his other self, along with Fully, Coreson, and a few others. All of them were poised for action. Bruce and Rogers looked distressed at the situation while Fully looked like Tsunade after a bad gamble on the week's lottery.

Sighing, she lowered her foot to the floor gracefully and glanced down at her metal enemy. In time to be blasted full force with another flash of white light.

Running behind Fury and a still-healing Coulson was enough to keep anyone humble, Bruce realized. Despite their ages, or supposed injuries, both men were in peak fitness, where Bruce had rarely worried about exercising anything other than his intellect. Elevator service had been shut down on the first fifteen floors and could not be reinstated until the threat was neutralized.

"Was that our consultant scaling the building?" Coulson asked.

"Something like that," Bruce panted. There was no time or breath to explain that she had not been climbing, but running. The black-suited agent did not even blink, just kept scaling the rounding and rounding stairs.

"These mother-loving ninjas and their sneaky mother-loving ways," Fury bellowed. Bruce did not have the lung capacity to argue with the man.

On the sixteenth floor they found Steve swiping his keycard in frustration over and over again. The elevator would not take them to the top floor because, "None of you are yet on Sir's guest list."

"What kind of guest list?" Steve asked, looking at the ceiling and pre-empting Fury's string of swearing.

"Sir was coordinating a private function, and all of you were to be admitted once in work attire."

Bruce and Steve sighed at the same time, while Fury's face was turning blacker by the minute. Even Coulson looked a little nonplused by the development.

"Take us up," Fury commanded, and JARVIS complied. It seemed that even the AI was not willing to risk his programming while the incensed members of SHIELD worked out their problems.

The quartet traversed upward with the sounds of intermittent explosions beckoning them higher. Bruce cast a glance in his periphery at Steve, wearing a flannel shirt and a bomber jacket, he did not exactly look suited to this kind of mission. He was not even equipped with his shield. Not that Bruce had anything better to offer. Between the four of them, Steve was still their best option.

A buzzing from Fury's comm, alerted the rest of the group to Hawkeye's staking out of a perch on a nearby building, "Looks like the girl has made contact."

Removing the talkie from his hip, the one-eyed director asked, "Who's the assailant?"

There was a pause as Fury closed his good eye. Even Coulson stared at the floor as they waited for the answer.

Two words sounded through the tinny machine, clipped and annoyed, "Tony Stark." Steve straightened, scowling at the wall. Bruce's eyebrows felt like they had taken up residence somewhere in his hairline.

In a low voice, and still unsurprised, Coulson asked, "Another project of his? He got carried away in Malibu a few years ago…"

Before anyone could relay the question, Hawkeye's stern voice clarified, "It's definitely Iron Man."

Fury resounded with another string of curses as the elevator dinged pleasantly. The doors slid back to reveal a new kind of destruction to add to Tony's resume of cluttered mayhem. It was one thing for the man to lose himself in a science project and make a mess along the way. This kind of blatant destruction was something else entirely. Bruce grimaced. Hawkeye had said Sakura had made contact.

A loud crash rocked the floor beneath their feet, not an explosion, and all four men piled out of the elevator at a sprint. At any other time Bruce might have admired their ability to enter into danger so willingly. At the moment, though, he could not control the sinking premonition of horror at what they would find. A flash of pink through the dust clouding the air told him he was on the money.

They rounded the corner to see Sakura standing over a prone Tony, about to eviscerate the man with a sharp knife kick from her heel.

"STOP!" he shouted and then watched her body undulate as she heeded the command, and nearly lost her balance for the effort. She did not turn to look at them, but continued staring down at Tony. Then slowly, she lowered her foot to the floor, glancing back to them with a concerned expression. Her face was dirty, smoky, and a large section of her hair had been burned away, the pink ends browned and curled beyond saving. Despite their positions, she definitely looked the worse off of the two. Her eyes darted between the four newcomers quickly and then she glanced back to Tony just in time for one his repulsor blasts to knock her across the room and into the wall. It held her for a moment before she slipped out of a drywall cavern and hit the floor.

Bruce was already moving when the Captain ordered, "See to her." Coulson was just behind him. Rogers, himself, stalked towards Tony.

She was awake when they reached her, breathing deeply and lowly, a pained expression on her face. He placed an arm on her shoulder to steady her, ready to assess what first aid might be necessary, when she lifted a hand and pushed him away gently. Then, defying logic and reason, she began to sit up.

"No, no," he said, "Don't move." She had hit the wall with such force that small specks of sheet rock were still sprinkling down onto them. Her back was covered in the white powder.

"You're more than likely injured," Coulson added, perfunctory and distant.

"I'm fine," she groaned, and this time pushed them away with enough force to prove it. Then she sat up, leaning against the wall for a moment. Her eyes reached past them to Tony, who seemed to be getting an earful from Steve. Her expression switched from pained to angry.

"You need to get checked out by a doctor," he insisted, unable to see anything but further injury resulting from her movements.

"The only one," she growled as she climbed to her feet, slow but without shaking or trembling, "who's going to need a doctor is _konoaitsu_ in the machine-suit." Taking another deep breath, she gently pulled Bruce's hand off of her shoulder and stepped forward, intent on finishing what she had started.

Coulson's quick interjection of himself between her and Tony stopped her, "He's a friendly."

She paused, her head shaking rapidly in bewilderment. The three glanced to Tony to see Steve helping him off of the ground. His face plate had retracted to show a certain level of amusement at the situation. Amusement and pain and not one iota of repentance. Bruce wondered how intoxicated he was to have let himself go this far and could not hide a wince. What the hell was happening in Malibu?

Beneath the veneer of dirt and ash, Sakura's face reddened. She looked more annoyed than he had ever seen. Perhaps angry, even, not that he could blame her for it. Coulson had yet to move from her side. Since it was clear that she had restrained herself and was no longer an immediate threat to Tony, Bruce wondered if the SHIELD agent was concerned for her health. More likely, his cynical side calculated, the man was trying to get a feel for her edge, someone who could stand toe-to-toe with Iron Man. While drunk, but still.

"Anou," Sakura muttered, causing both men to look down to her. Her eyes were still on Tony, who was smirking at the Director despite, or perhaps because of, the profanity hailing down on him, "He's just drunk?"

Neither tried to hide their sighs, which was all the answer she needed.

All at once, she shook her head, appearing much more cavalier about the scenario, "One of my friends back home has a tendency for wide-scale destruction when he drinks." She smiled wryly, "We try to keep him away from alcohol whenever possible."

Bruce smiled in a rather strained way, not wanting to tell her that was not a viable option for them. Who was going to hide the keys to the liquor cabinet from a billionaire? He did not want to rain on her charity, especially when she could have been killed over the Avengers' dirty laundry. What would her people have said? Would ten more like her have come to take vengeance? Fifty? One hundred? They could take the entire city.

As they left the destruction, only Fury and Stark staying behind, Sakura asked, "Will the Director be okay by himself?"

"He's quite capable," Coulson assured her, "and Stark, though you wouldn't know it, was not completely himself."

"Are we going to get any intel on that soon?" Steve asked, his voice still registering his annoyance. Bruce thought he and Tony had made progress during the Chitauri invasion, but also realized that any relationship could backslide.

"Events have been unfolding in Malibu, and Mr. Stark is handling them according to type," Coulson said calmly, "We're trying to keep out of it as much as possible." Bruce frowned, again. Tony had not been the best at keeping in touch, but neither had he. They were comrades, of a sort, and had been friendly enough thanks to the events in New York. He really needed to do a better job of keeping an eye on his friends.

Bruce glanced down at Sakura to see how much of the conversation she was following, but she was prodding her stomach. The light jacket she had been wearing was gone, and her top was badly skewed from lack of one shoulder. On the center of her torso was a palm-sized stain of blood that made him swear loudly.

Coulson, Rogers, and Sakura all turned to look at him, but the two men quickly followed his gaze.

"We _do_ need to get you to the doctor," Bruce nearly shouted, grieved that she would try to hide her wound. He was already pulling at her hands to get a look at it. There was a gash along her side that was weeping, but not flowing with the amount of blood that it would have taken to soak through. How long had the wound been there?

"I'm fine," she said defensively, shrinking away from the attention. It was the first time she had ever appeared self-conscious in front of him, or anyone else, that he had ever noticed. "I just need a chance to clean myself up, and I can take care of this myself."

Coulson stopped the elevator on a different floor, and Steve was leaning forward, arms outstretched, to scoop her up. Bruce wondered if he should have taken such a chivalrous route, but before he could lament not doing so, Sakura had flat-palmed Captain America in his leaning forward forehead. Testily, and somewhat embarrassed, she said, "I can _walk_."

She followed Coulson's directions as the man led them to a toned-down version of a recovery room quite similar to the one Bruce remembered waking in. As the agent began to rifle through the white cabinets, Sakura moved to the examination gurney. She did not sit on it, but used it to house her red top, which she removed efficiently. Bruce did not try to protect her modesty, though he quickly noticed Steve glancing away from what was happening. The tall man seemed content to stand by the door and make sure no other absent employees entered.

A delicately wiry tank top covering a black sports bra had been so lacerated that it was nearly in shreds but was quite adhered to her skin by sticky blood. Her body was lean and girlish, and again he doubted her claims of womanhood. She barely looked like an adult.

"What happened?" Coulson asked as he passed her an antiseptic. She took a sniff of it the medicated cloth and then began to gingerly rub the cut area, wincing and breathing through the pain.

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Sakura beat him to it. She started with their venture to dinner that quickly turned to adventure after dinner, then followed through with the details of their return and eventually her trip up into the Tower. Bruce did not know whether to be grateful or embarrassed that she had not mentioned their heated conversation of ethics. By the time she finished speaking, even Rogers was looking at her, having taken in all the clinical sitrep. His face was still pink, though.

Coulson made to hand her a bandage, which she hesitated over and then took. As she was peeling its wrapper back, Steve pulled out a mirror to give her a vantage for properly applying it. She pressed the self-adhesive over her torn serratus magnus, inhaling sharply at the pain beneath her fingers. Her slow exhaled turned into a sharp cry as she caught sight of her face in the mirror.

"_Atashi no kami_!" she nearly screeched, jerking the handheld out of Steve's hands and inspecting her face this way and that. "_Doushiyou_," she moaned. "_Naze kore…_" she whispered heatedly to herself, breaking off into a language he could not follow. At length she sighed, setting the mirror on top of her dirty top. She took a few slow, deep breaths, her worry transforming into annoyance. The three men were watching her carefully, two with more weariness than the third.

Finally she fixed her eyes on Coulson, "Your teammate is completely undisciplined and reckless. The damage he caused to this building endangered anyone in the area, including civilians." Steve quickly opened his mouth, and Bruce did not know whether the man was going to agree or contradict her, but Coulson beat him to the punch.

"For the record, he was on his own property, and you were trespassing. As far as he understood it, anyway. He did what anyone would have done."

"_Hardly_," she snapped, "with so much alcohol." Bruce did not mention how she had just been defending his drunkenness earlier. Apparently loss of hair changed the circumstances. Coulson just smiled.

With annoyance radiating off of her, Sakura began to replace her torn and dirty clothing. She stopped when Steve produced a black SHIELD hoodie, which she took with a small nod before slipping it over her head.

The next three hours they spent detailing every bit of what had happened.

* * *

Got just a few more loose ends to tie up, and then we're done.

As always, **hours** go into writing a chapter. I would really appreciate it if you would take a few **seconds** to review. Thanks :)


	6. Chapter 6

The final chapter. Enjoy :)

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The next morning Sakura rolled out of bed slowly. The windows had been electronically shaded, and a clock at her bedside read ten in the morning. Last night's battle had not taken as much out of her as had traversing to it and then healing her injuries. The healing would not have been so ridiculous had she not had to wait until she was alone to do so, but there was no reason for her to show all of her cards to SHIELD or the Avengers. It was enough that they knew of her strength and basic ninjutsu. After the hours and hours they had spent rehashing all of the details of her and Bruce's encounter with the muggers, and her battle with their teammate, Iron Man, her body had already tried to start healing itself. She had had to undo that work, correct the position of her sheared and fractured bones and start anew. Sleeping beneath the soft microfiber had been the greatest comfort of the evening.

More than being tired, or the fighting against someone who had turned out to be an ally, however questionable, she was still annoyed at the state of her hair. She had been barely into puberty when the traumatic experience in the Forest of Death had irrevocably tied her identity to her hair. Long or short, it was hers, and it was no one else's job to mangle it. Last night's battle had been relatively easy, compared to what she had gone through during her first Chuunin exam, despite Tony Stark's surprise attack. Her hair was hers, though, and someone else subjecting such destruction on it left her feeling sour even upon waking.

Half of the hair on the left side of her head had burned away, leaving her with a gnarly, asymmetric head full of tangles. It looked like she had approached the absolute cheapest stylist she could find, asked them to blindfold themselves after drinking a shelf's worth of sake before cutting her hair, and then hoped for the best.

Sulking, she worked her hair down the hallway, into the small kitchenette her suite supplied, and looted the drawers for a pair of scissors. The bathroom was too small for what she had in mind, which was why she found herself a few minutes later on the rooftop, a clone holding two mirrors for her while she attempted to make something out of the snarl of pink.

She heard the roof access open, and shifted the mirrors a few centimeters to see none other than the object of her ire approaching. He was taller than her, still, but smaller than his suited-figure had been last night. It was a sunny morning, and he wore a pair of dark sunglasses, probably hung over. His expression was flat compared to the shit-eating grin he had been sporting last night. His feet crunched as she approached, and she resisted the urge to throw the scissors at him. The good will she had created with this potential future employer would probably be undone if she impaled one of their teammates.

Returning to her hair, her clone resumed her position with the mirrors, saying nothing as she shot Stark the dirty look that Sakura, herself, did not. She gave a hesitant _snip_ of the shears just as Tony hip-checked her double. The Shadow dissipated in a _poof_ of smoke while Tony caught both mirrors deftly. Well, there went her happy theory that he was miserably working off his intoxication.

He shifted one mirror so that she could see his reflection without turning her head, and Sakura scowled. This was not helping in her attempt to ignore him. As he opened his mouth, she realized that was the whole point.

"What do you know about physics?" he asked abruptly, then turned the mirror back into position so she could continue her task. Sakura grimaced and arranged another section of hair, watching the burned bits float away a few seconds later.

"What is '_physics'_?" she asked shortly.

He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, "Astro, Classical Engineering, Mechanics. Force and acceleration and Newtons and Joules and mass and time?" The scissors were slowly drooping as she listened to him speak, watching him through her periphery. When he finished, she righted her arm and continued searching for seared strands, while he waited for an answer. Even with the distraction she pushed to be efficient in her task. More motivation to get the heck away from the cretin.

"I like physics," he added, when it quickly became apparent that she was not going to answer him. "I like what it dictates- the way it speaks in the language of math- various applications." She continued to listen to him ramble, her sensitivity to his presence lessening as she focused. "The point is…" he finally tried. She glanced over at him, scissors still aloft. He winced, coughed, and then pushed the potential weapon out of the general range of his torso. "You had a completely impressive disregard for physics last night." He pointed at her empty hand, then made a fist of his own, his eyebrows expressive. "Force? Where does that kind of force come from?"

Sakura sighed and gave up attempting to finish her hair. She had gotten a good bit of the old, burned strands cleared out, though there was no telling how horrendous it looked this morning. Maybe she would stop trying to be polite and tidy and would just have a go at trimming in her common room. With as much money as this group had, they could afford maid service. Maybe Ino could fix her do completely, or recommend someone who could, when- if Sakura could ever return to Konoha.

Tony Stark was still following her, prattling as they descended into the stairwell. He was the one the Avengers called Iron Man, and she could understand why after seeing the suit. He was a habitual drinker, which might have not been so bad in and of itself, if she could, as a healer, disregard the health of his liver or the destruction he had caused- the anxiety he had caused his teammates. Shishou, after all, was a notorious lush, but she had never endangered anyone else with her habit.

They had made it back to the elevator when she turned on him in a flash, waving the scissors as an extension of her hand, rather than a weapon. Despite her lack of intent, he ceased speaking and motion, alert eyes watching her.

"I have _no idea_ what you're trying to say. I don't know you from anyone else I might pass on the street, and therefore I don't put much stock into the typhoon of words blowing from your mouth," she snapped. She scowled at him, tucking the scissors into her pocket. He removed his sunglasses, and deceptively clear sclera around brown irises regarded her intently. "I know this, though. If a stranger on the street had offended me, I'm certain I would understand an apology." His eyes narrowed, and she bit back a sigh, realizing he was just another one of those selfish idiots like Sasuke, thinking the world revolved around him.

She turned toward the elevator, punching the button as viciously as she could without chakra, when he quickly said, "I'm sorry." Sakura paused, glancing over her shoulder. His face had softened, but he shot a, "What can I say?" expression at her with a shrug. She turned to face him fully as he bowed from the waist.

"_Please forgive the discomfort I caused you,_" he said in a near-flawless accent. Her native language flowed from his mouth and warmed the hallway. His bow was pathetic, and Sakura was certain that he was not the kind of person who practiced many subservient gestures, if any, but the attempt was enough for her.

After a few moments of letting him sweat, in which he did not appear to sweat much at all, Sakura nodded. "_You're forgiven_." He joined her as the elevator opened, and gestured for her to step inside first. She did so, feeling that it had been too long since she had spoken to anyone in her mother tongue. As he joined her, she said, "_Apologies for clocking you in the head_."

"_Lawful. My head is still beating._"

Sakura smirked at his word choice, but did not bother correcting him. Not as proficient as she had originally thought, but his accent was good and it was only his lack of practice that kept him from fluency. The intention was what mattered. He followed her for the next hour, practicing his Japanese and making her breakfast in the small kitchenette. She decided against soiling the rest of the space with her attempt at cutting her own hair, while Tony picked her brain about physics and force.

It was not until much later that she realized what a good job he had done of alleviating her homesickness.

* * *

Steve thought Dirty Dancing was OK as far as movies went. The Houseman family and the other people at Kellermnen's he could relate to, though it made him feel awkward when he realized they were the 'bad guys' of the film. Or at least, the old, stodgy ones. Sakura, though, had loved the movie almost from the very beginning. It was only her self-restraint that preempted her from getting up and copying a few of the more formal dance moves, but her eyes were glued to the screen as some of the… looser dances appeared. Johnny certainly had moves the ladies seemed to like. Steve frowned. Too bad that Patrick Swayze fellow was dead.

Between them was a nearly devoured bowl of popcorn. Sakura had even taken to munching on some of the half-popped kernels during her moments of anxiety for Baby's clumsiness.

Smirking, Steve reached for the bowl, pulling it away from Sakura's groping fingers. She looked away from the movie long enough to glance up at him in annoyance, then sheepishly removed her hand as he grinned. It was nice to have someone else not so completely clued-in to the culture to watch the pictures with him. At least he did not feel so in the dark, either. Darcy Lewis' regimen for his acculturation was entertaining enough but kind of boring when he had to watch hours and hours of television by himself.

"I'm going to get more popcorn," he said, and Sakura nodded, then froze as her eyes landed on his arm. He glanced down to see a quarter-sized slug on his sleeve, its protuberant eyes reaching towards Sakura. He resisted the urge to squeal in disgust and was silently grateful when the young woman plucked it from his arm with glee.

She set the small creature on the glass table in front of him and kneeled, and Steve winced, trying not to think about the stains.

"Kyoko-chan!" Sakura cried, a grin splitting her face in two. She was odd enough, able to do the maneuvers she could on the battlefield, but talking to a slug? That was a new level of strange.

What was worse, though, was when the slug began to talk back, a soft, high-pitched stream of foreign words flowing from the thing's… mouth?

"_Sakura-sama, so very glad to see you well, ma'am. An emissary of the toads came to our home and wished to relay a message to you._" He watched Sakura's grin dim, but she nodded, with a soft affirmative sound to the small slug. "_The Toad Master says you are to return home whenever it suits you._" Her face brightened all over again, fingers dancing over the table top. Steve wondered what Tony or the others would save if the furniture were to suddenly explode from the force. "_And Sakura-sama?_"

"_Hai, Kyoko-chan_?"

"_The Toad Master also requests that you, '_Look outside_.'_"

"Look outside," was something he could understand. The small slug disappeared in a puff of smoke. Sakura frowned in confusion. They turned in tandem to look at the window adjacent to the wall-mounted television. At the same time that he nearly dropped the bowl of kernels, Sakura squealed in delight.

"Naruto!" She rushed toward the window, while Steve regained his grasp on the bowl. A man was holding to the window by the flat of his palm, blond hair blowing wildly. A joyful grin was on his face, eyes crinkled to the point of being closed. Sakura opened the window, one that Steve was not even sure was meant to open, and allowed her friend- brother? Lover?- into the room. Naruto pulled himself inside gracefully, dusting his knees off before he clapped his hands briskly to alleviate the chill. Steve quickly saw that the bent of his hair had little to do with the wind, after all.

"Baka!" she shouted, giving the taller man, though still a head shorter than Steve himself, a slap across the back of his head.

"Mou, Sakura-chan," he said, a hurt expression on his face.

"_It's fifty stories up!_" she said heatedly. "_Why didn't you just use the front door?_" Naruto grinned down at her, crossing his arms behind his head.

"_Who would I be if I didn't try to maintain my number one unpredictable ninja status?_"

Sakura sighed and shook her head, "_The Hokage can't afford to go around breaching protocol with new clients. These people especially don't like surprises_." Naruto's grin faded and he dropped his arms slightly as they both turned to acknowledge Steve. Sakura regained a small smile as she introduced them.

"Steve Rogers, this is Uzumaki Naruto. He's the Leader of our Village, our Hokage. Hokage-sama, this is Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America of the Avengers Initiative."

"Pleased to meet you," Steve said, "and don't mind the Captain America stuff. I'm just Steve without the suit."

Naruto nodded, still grinning brightly, making Steve wonder if he understood all of the exchange, but Sakura made no motion to translate. The two men shook hands, and Steve was pleased with the strength of his grip.

"Nice to meet you, Steve-san."

"_His family name is Rogers. They do it backwards here_," Sakura murmured, but Naruto shrugged, figuring there was no harm done if Steve didn't look offended.

"It's good to see you. Why have you come so far?" Sakura asked, maintaining English for Steve's sake.

"The chain retracts," he said flatly, and Sakura gasped, hands lifting to cover her mouth. Steve wondered at the code, but they were not looking at him. For a moment he felt distinctly like an outsider, though not in a bad way. "Uh, sorry," Naruto said sheepishly, then slipped back into their language, "_We've built up enough reserves again thanks to everyone's hard work that everyone can come home._" Obviously, they were both very happy, and if his allies were happy, he was happy. When Sakura leaped forward and hugged the new arrival, Steve began to discreetly step towards the kitchen.

"Oh, Steve! I'm so sorry," Sakura said, and made to pull him back into the conversation. Her green eyes were bright, and her face was flushed prettily with excitement. Steven grinned for her. "My mission is over now. I'm going home!" He nodded in excitement, grinning to Naruto, who shared the expression.

All at once, the young woman gasped, then huffed, no longer looking at either of the two men, "I have to start packing." She vaulted over the couch that she and Steve had just been sitting on while in the background Baby tearfully informed her Mr. Houseman that he had let her down, too. Sakura's mutterings continued down the hallway, "Gotten too comfortable… even think about souvenirs…!"

Steve opened his mouth to ask Naruto about his journey from their Village, when Sakura returned back into the living room, her face blazing, "No! I can't pack! Naruto!" She glowered at him. "We have to introduce you to Director Fully and the others! What am I even thinking?"

"I don't pretend to know," Naruto said spread his hands, but Sakura was gone again before she caught the jibe. Steve heard the slamming of her door and blinked a few times before Naruto's nervous cough broke him from his thoughts.

"So that was a pretty neat trick you did, climbing all the way up the building."

"Oh that's nothing," Naruto dismissed sincerely. "You should see how many bowls of ramen I can eat. That's a real achievement."

"Don't be saying gross things!" Sakura's voice hollered down the hall.

"How does she…?" Naruto sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Steve held his tongue, not wanting to say anything to cast Sakura in a negative light, but who was the subordinate and who the superior in this relationship? The two had hugged like old friends, not hierarchically structured comrades, despite what she had said to introduce them.

"Sakura's been a great help to us," he ventured instead, trying to smooth over the situation diplomatically. He need not have bothered. Naruto's face brightened immediately and he nodded.

"I would not expect anything less, _dattebayo_! Sakura-chan's a great friend, and one of the smartest ninja I know." He slouched slightly, happily, skewing the lay of the flak vest on his shoulders. Then as Steve watched his face contorted in remembrance of something.

"Everything OK?" he asked carefully.

"Speaking of brilliant ninja," Naruto muttered, and began to prod at the numerous pockets on his chest.

"You better not be saying bad things about me," Sakura announced as she returned. She had traded her casual, street clothing for a duplicate of the red top she had been wearing in her fight against iron man, as well as a pair of dark pants. Tied around her crown was a red band, bearing the same mark as the one Naruto wore around his forehead.

"Tsk! Why do you always assume the worst, Sakura-chan?" the blond demanded unperturbedly, still patting his pockets.

"Woman's intuition?" she teased. "Practical experience?"

Her words were forgotten as Naruto pulled a hand-length scroll from the pocket of his pants, and held it out to her. His expression was serious, and Sakura, herself, assumed a matching facade as she took the scroll.

"I almost forgot this in the excitement."

Sakura blinked, eyes darting between Naruto and Steve, who shrugged, before glancing back down at the scroll. With practiced ease, she slid her thumb beneath the bound edge from one end to the other. The paper opened without so much as a crackle, to his surprise. Sakura's eyes widened, apparently gaining some understanding of the mysterious scroll as she looked over its contents. She glanced to Naruto, who nodded. She glanced around to the empty space around her and, when she was satisfied, pulled the length wide, exposing all of the characters within to air and life.

A poof of smoke filled the room, but dissipated almost just as quickly. When it cleared another young man was standing, just finishing pulling his black hair into a high knot on his head. His expression was casual, clearly unperturbed by whatever transfer the scroll he stood on had just accomplished. He blinked at Naruto, then at Steve and sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world was tumbling off of his shoulders.

"We're in New York now, then?" he asked with an English accent.

"Hai, you're in New York," Sakura answered for them, stepping up to the new arrival's side. His casual expression changed not a whit at the sight of her save for his eyes. The eyes that had stared at both Steve and Naruto dispassionately, instead embraced Sakura, took her in in her entirety. In one glance she was measured for health and wellness, and the black eyes that watched her crinkled, revealing small crow's feet.

Steve had seen many sides of Sakura, mostly professional, but also playful and annoyed and angry. He had never seen her so soft and lovely as when she slipped her hand into the one that had opened to wait for her. "Hey, cool guy," she teased. The "cool guy" smirked at her, and Naruto coughed, drawing the attention of both of them. As if they had forgotten where they were and suddenly remembered, their hands dropped and their expressions flattened into mirrored neutral facades.

"Steve-san and I are going to go meet these SHIELD guys, if that's all right Steve-san?" Naruto asked. Then, in the manner of a man used to having his orders obeyed, "Shikamaru, you should help Sakura finish packing."

"Ah, well, it's Sunday, but there's probably someone in the office," he offered, smiling at the other two, who were still in ninja mode and no longer liable to smile at anything. "Now's good," he added, taking the hint from Naruto. This was Sakura's suite, anyway. And, uh… she had packing to do?

In the hallway, Naruto turned a grin on Steve that was conspiratorial and devious, one finger laid on his lips. As if no one realized what he was doing. He looked more like a teenager than a man who led hundreds of people with abilities like Sakura's. He chuckled sneakily and then gestured for Steve to lead the way.

Steve smiled, shaking his head. The world was probably stranger than he could ever hope to realize. Might as well go with it.

* * *

When the door closed behind them, Sakura slipped her hand into Shikamaru's again. It was surprising that he had been okay with that much the first time, given his hesitation against public displays, but she knew him well enough to have read the affection in his face.

"You okay?" she asked, reverting to their language. The reminder was enough to make him sigh, and his free hand rubbed at his eyes. He smelled like smoke, and there were rain droplets on his clothing, despite the sunny, blue sky outside.

"Yeah. London was ten pains in the ass. The client hired two consultants for the case, and the other one is a case study in not working well with others. Brilliant, but sociopathic." Sakura frowned.

"Proud?" she asked, lightly squeezing his fingers, as she pulled him toward the kitchen.

He followed without hesitation, linking their fingers more tightly, "Proud and brilliant. A hellacious combination."

"A combination you have no knowledge of, I'm sure," she teased as she passed him a bottle of water.

He smirked as he untwisted the bottle cap, "I'm too _lazy_ to be very prideful, as I have been told on many occasions." Sakura grinned as he tipped the bottle in her direction. "I've got nothing on Holmes-san. I'm sure of that much. His partner Watson-san was able to keep him under a semblance of control. To be fair, though, our employer needed both of us working in concert to overcome our enemy." He sighed, taking a long drag off of the water bottle.

So they had been successful, Sakura realized. Naruto would not have pulled him off of a job if there were still a chance of success, and Shikamaru would not have come unless it was wise to do so.

"How'd you do?" he asked, regarding her with a softer expression than he had shown in front of Naruto or Steve. Sakura pulled herself to him, a mutual effort as his arm slunk around her waist.

"Good. This is actually a pretty cushy job. I'm led to believe things can get nasty, but mostly it was easy."

"Mostly?" he asked, fingering her freshly cut hair. Sakura groaned and made to hide her hands over her head. Tony had given her the recommendation of a stylist and had even forked over the cash to get a proper job done, but the ends of her hair were curling around her chin. It had not been so short in such a long time!

"Part of the job," she said in finality, and Shikamaru said nothing more about it. He took another swig from the bottle and then set it down in favor of embracing her with both arms.

"So. Time to pack?" he asked, and Sakura grinned up at him, through loose fingers.

"We're off the clock. I think we can steal a few minutes."

"For what?" he asked, affecting boredom. She dug her finger into his side so that he grimaced, but did not drop his pretense.

"Well if you're going to be that way, you can just go back to London," she said, slowly beginning to unwind her arms from his torso.

"Troublesome," he said, and released her in favor of cupping the back of her neck.

"I'll show you troublesome," she muttered, pulling his face down to hers.

* * *

Despite distractions, she finished repacking her things within a few hours. There was plenty of time for Steve to introduce Naruto to Agent Coreson, as Fully was once again out of the office. She wondered at a man who was so constantly out of reach of his subordinates, but felt it wiser to say nothing. That evening they shared a meal with those of the Avengers who were available- Steve, Bruce, and Tony Stark, who quipped about how cute her new haircut looked, and received nothing more than a smirk for his attempt to rile her.

It was surprising to see how easily her best friend and her boyfriend engaged the Avengers, who she had found at times endearing and other times utterly maddening. In other words, human. Naruto spent a good deal of time trying to show Steve just how much he could eat, and Steve, rather than being disgusted, was matching him bite for bite. Shikamaru had been pulled into conversation with Tony about the ethics of warfare near civilian populations, which had morphed into the rules of chess versus shougi, and had finally devolved into a snark fest. Neither man seemed keen on letting up, so Sakura felt no need to intervene.

She spent most of her conversation with Bruce discussing antibodies, of which he had a great knowledge, though less so when it came to their application against poisons. He was smart enough to give her some insight into more mundane medicinal purposes, rather than field application, and she wondered at the prospect of keeping in touch with such a brilliant colleague.

All in all it was a very enjoyable evening.

The next morning after a slow breakfast with Shikamaru from what was left of Tony's balcony, apparently he was trying hard to stay in her good graces, and waking Naruto from his king-size bed, and who knew he still slept with that ridiculous frog cap, they began the very last steps of saying farewell.

Sakura did most of the talking, having spent most of the time with their client group. It was strange to think of them as offshoots of her client, though. She had been through dangerous situations with two of them, and had enjoyed lots of movies with Steve. Didn't that make them friends?

"These are for you," she said as she passed two scrolls to Bruce. He took one in each hand, looking at the different colored dowels of each. "This one is to be used in case you genuinely wish to remove the seal." His face hardened, and she shook her head, "It's an option, Bruce… I don't need to be here for it to work, but you'll be out of commission for a few hours after the seal is removed, so make sure you use it well in advance of any need." He nodded reluctantly, and she was proud that he was able to take the offer instead of throwing the scroll away from her. Who knew? Maybe he would as soon as her back was turned, but she hoped not. "And this one," she said with a gesture to the second, "Is a scroll that will summon me in the way that Shikamaru came to us. You can ask Steve about the particulars, but all you have to do is open it." Tony was watching the scroll as if all of its secrets would come to him the harder he stared. "Make sure it's an emergency when you do, please, otherwise, I'll be very mad at having to come all the way here for nothing. And we will charge you for travel expenses and accommodations." She smiled pleasantly while Tony snorted and rolled his eyes. Steve nodded conscientiously and Bruce smirked.

She shook hands with all three men, and was glad that she did not feel herself blush when Steve's fingers closed over hers. He still had a smile that could power this entire city.

Stepping back to her friends, she bowed deeply to the three men a few meters away from her. As one, she, Naruto, and Shikamaru made the ram seal and as one they each disappeared in a swirl of green leaves.

A few blocks away from Stark Tower, Naruto grinned as he ruffled his hair and put his hitai-ate into his pocket. They would be traveling incognito for quite a ways, and since they were no longer on a mission, the less attention they drew, the better.

"They seem like a really nice crew!"

"Doesn't hurt that they're disgustingly wealthy," Shikamaru added.

"Certainly not," Sakura agreed, slipping her own forehead protector into her pocket. "They probably could have helped us with return, given the chance."

"It's not a big deal," her old friend and Hokage answered. "This is the way we do things. Let's stop for ramen on the way."

* * *

Bruce glanced down at the scrolls in his hands. The one specifically meant for him he kept, tucking the bulky thing into his pocket. The other, for Sakura he handed to Rogers, who took it with a small salute.

"I wondered if she would replace the other one she gave Coulson and Fury," the Captain said, glancing around as if they might see her again. "Too bad we don't know how to get in touch with her without such drastic measures."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Tony said, somewhat distracted. Both men turned to look at him, or rather the small holo-GPS he was holding between his finger and thumb. "They aren't as sneaky as they like to think they- Uh… the link dropped. Hold on- just- JARVIS, help me out here…"

"She was pretty amazing, huh?" Steve asked.

Bruce smiled, looking back to where she had been standing, "I've never seen anything like her."

* * *

The end! It all started as a few scenes of Sakura just beating the shit out of the Hulk, and then the rest of the story followed. This is seriously as short as I can do.

So, I originally had not intended to reveal who the other member of Sakura's "committed relationship" was. I was just going to let you all decide for yourself. That was not entirely satisfying to me, but it would have been easier than fitting someone in the plot. Except someone asked me to be explicit, and I thought, well why not? Ask and you shall receive. It doesn't change the plot or the rest of the story, so just go with it, Buzz.

Thanks for reading what, in the end, amounted to a lot of different scenarios in my head finally put on paper. Yay, it's over :) I hope you enjoyed!

But, whether you enjoyed it or you hated it, please take a few seconds to leave a review :)


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